


Inhale

by TimeLordOfManyNames



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeLordOfManyNames/pseuds/TimeLordOfManyNames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't believe in promises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhale

_Will you come back?_

**I will.**

_Promise._

**You don't believe in promises.**

Q squeezes the phone in his palm a little harder than necessary and presses his forehead against the windowpane. No promise makes sense if the outcome does not depend one hundred percent on you. And it doesn't depend one hundred percent on anything. There are always probabilities, chances, not to mention counter-steps, taken by enemy once you fancied yourself having calculated them all. The quartermaster closes his eyes and recalls the London underground. His ears pretend to hear the roar of the speeding train, squashing sluggish air masses. Inhale.

It is too airless and cold at night to sleep without waking up. When has it become that difficult? Seeing that nothing has changed. Or is this the case? Q gets up and brews up his herbal tea for distraction. The hot mug burns his fingers, making him feel alive a little bit more than a minute ago. The darkness over the London leaves the rain falling. His eyes sore as if sprinkled with sand. Inhale.

Deafening thunder. The quartermaster manages to dodge — one of the shards scratches his cheek badly and the other gives his shoulder a painful hit, but the elderly couple ten feet away from him isn't as lucky. People screaming, sound of dishes being smashed, someone's cry and the specific smell of a detonated explosive. Sirens singing means that the law keepers are already aware of what happened. Q thinks that he is loosing concentration. It interferes with his life. Inhale.

Everyone in the office is busy with their usual business. New developments require a lot of time and thoughtful approach, but the time is what they are always short of. The preliminary schemes, finalizing, safety check — the best-loved routine that he wouldn't exchange for any other one. Except perhaps for... The doors of the lift open. The quartermaster throws a hasty glance at the nearing agent — as always unflappable after saving the day another time while endangering one more diplomatic relationship as well. Double-oh-seven lays down what was left of the last given special equipment on the table in front of him and waits till Q raises his eyes on him.

"Again? Do I have to remind you that the crown has no funds to deal with equipment damage, when it could be avoided?"

He turns away to remove what was left of his penultimate invention in the nearest case. Double-oh-seven leaves. Quartermaster pierces him with a glare through the slowly closing doors, when his phone vibrates, moving a quarter of an inch over the surface of the table.

**I promise.**

And Q feels that just now, for the first time in the last two weeks he can exhale.


End file.
